Revival
by happyYAPPIE
Summary: Humans. All they ever did was forget about them, mock them and call them names. No wonder the place was going to shut down. Can Mike Schmidt change the fate of this mysterious establishment?


Mike Schmidt leaned nonchalantly against the brightly-colored wall of the Dining Hall, exerting a sigh of discontent at he glanced at his watch. Was it almost 5:00 already? Damn, the time really flew. He crossed his arms defiantly and grumbled, frustrated with the knowledge that within the next five minutes, a swarm of unruly, germy, not to mention LOUD children would burst through those doors at any given second, and the unfortunate sound of children's music would inevitably fill the room. Some strange kid's birthday party, or something like that. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tattered piece of newspaper, reading the strange ad circled with red ink.

"Family pizzaria looking for security guard to work the nightshift. 12 A.M. to 6 A.M. Monitor cameras, ensure safety of equipment and animatronic characters. Not responsible for any injury/disembodiment. $120 a week."

Yep, this was the place he worked at now. Freddy Fazbear's Pizzaria, "the funnest place on Earth"! ...Or so the manager described it when Mike called about the job. It wasn't a particularly pleasant-sounding job to Mike, as he wasn't too fond of children, but he and his rent were desperate for the $120 a week he'd been promised, so he reluctantly took the job. Besides, it was just sitting around an old dusty room, staring at some boring old animatronics and maybe catching up on some sleep, right? ...And the disembodiment thing was totally a joke. Yeah, totally a joke. That's all it was, he'd convinced himself.

He winced as he spotted the manager, a middle-aged man dressed strangely professionally for such a dumb old place, waltz through the doors, giving the room a thorough scan until he spotted Mike. The young man straightened up and stood stiffly before the man, hoping to give a good first impression.

"So, you're the new night guard, eh? What's you're name, son, uh... Oh, don't tell me now...! It's, uh... Mitch?" He stared at Mike quizically.

"Uh, it's Mike, sir," he corrected, his voice shaking. "Mike Schmidt. Uh-umm, yeah, we talked on the ph-phone last week..."

The man simply laughed at Mike's obvious nerves, giving him a hard nudge in the shoulder. "Hold you horses here, son, ain't nothin' to be worried about. You're a night guard- it's not exactly rocket science. Not like you're can really mess up or anything, right?"

Mike shook his head anxiously, his eyes wide as the man spoke. He didn't exactly have the best track record when it came to keeping jobs, or even getting them for that matter. Ever since his first job as a bag boy when he was 16, he'd never been able to hold down a job, whether it was due to carelessness or too many absences or what have you... But not this time. He seriously needed the money. He'd only been living in his new apartment for three months and he'd already managed to get on the land lord's bad side. So if this boring job was the key to keeping his shelter, so be it.

"Now," the manager continued, "the name's Charles Thompson, but all the employees call me Charlie." He gave Mike's hand a vigorous shake then proceeded with the introductions. "Now, the reason I called you down here so early is 'cause I want you to get a good feel of the environment you're gonna be workin' in. As you may know, there's gonna be a birthday party here in just a few minutes, so you're gonna get an authentic performance from Freddy Fazbear and the gang!" Mike grimaced at Charlie's extreme overzealousness, and couldn't tell if it was genuine or if he was a total fake who hated his job.

His pessimistic thoughts were abruptly broken into when Charlie continued, pointing his stubby finger at the large faded curtain hanging on the other side of the room. "Now, just beyond that curtain is Freddy Fazbear himself, along with Chica the Chicken and Bonnie the Bunny. There's another animatronic, Foxy the Pirate Fox over in Pirate's Cove, but... We don't like to mention him much." This phrase puzzled Mike greatly, but he shook it off and continued to listen. "Those're the guys you're gonna be watchin' tonight for six hours straight. Sounds like a hoot and a half, huh?" he chuckled sarcastically.

"Uh, y-yeah, sounds great." Mike faked a grin.

Charlie's countenance took a dramatic downward decline from happy-go-lucky to utter trepidation. "Though, there is one more thing you should know... As you may know, the place is closing down soon," he muttered in a quiet voice, as though it were some big secret. Everyone knew, though. Everyone knew about the infamous pizzaria's hideous past, and of the sharp decline in business lately, especially since "the Bite of '87" about five years ago. It was no secret, that was for sure.

"Anyways, the kids should be arrivin' any minute now, so I'm gonna head off to the office, you just sit in here and acquaint youself with Freddy an' the others. Oh, and watch out for those kids, too. They're a real handful," he added with a hearty chuckle as he left the room, waving goodbye to the poor newbie.

Mike sighed wearily as he plopped down into a seat at a dusty table in the back of the room, resting his cheek on his palm. 'Jeez, that guy seemed fun,' he thought sarcastically as he checked his watch. It was already 4:54, a tell-tale sign that the party would be starting anytime soon. 'I seriously didn't sign up to be a babysitter.'

After some time, the room was practically teeming with young, noisy children, all around the age of six or seven, accompanied by groups of chatty parents gathered together as they allowed their children to run about like wild animals. The room reeked heavily of pizza and cake, and soda spills and frosting covered nearly all the occupied tables. Every now and then, Mike would get a degrading look from one of the adults, probably wondering why a strange 22-year-old man was sitting in at a children's party, as he had not yet recieved his uniform and was still dressed in his raggedy t-shirt and jeans. The children hardly interacted with him, only to push past him as they ran amock chasing each other until they wore themselves out.

"Hey there, kids, are you ready to get this party started?!"

Mike perked up as the sound of an incredibly comical and robotic voice echoed throughout the large room, and the unruly children ceased their hyperactivity and stared at the stage in confusion. Immediately afterward, the old curtain slunk open to reveal a trio of rather sinister-looking animatronics. Flinching, he locked his eyes on the animatronic who he could only assume was the one-and-only Freddy Fazbear himself, sporting a tiny black tophat and clutching a microphone as he oggled down at the kids with his lifeless yet frightening eyes. Accompanying him were Bonnie the Bunny and Chica the Chicken themselves, with Bonnie sporting a large red bowtie and Chica a bib that said "Let's eat!" in colorful letters. Mike couldn't help but wince as he watched the trio's convulsive robotic movements, and the ear-piercing squeaking of their joints indicated that it'd been long since their last oiling. Not to mention, their faux fur was tattered and torn and stained to the wildest extent, a tell-tale sign that they hadn't been well cared for in a very long time.

"Hiya, kiddos!" Chica squealed in a pitchy voice, waving her right wing in the air from side to side. Mike found it hard not to gape at the sharp set of teeth hidden away in her beak, but Bonnie's voice broke into his thoughts.

"Hello, hello, kids! Are you ready to ROCK-AND-ROLL?!" he practically screamed in a raspy, hyper voice, his ears swiftly twitching forwards and back repeatedly.

A large number of the children grimaced in discontent, and the rest merely whimpered in fear. while the adults gossiped amongst each other about the eerie creatures. These were some creepy-looking robots, Mike couldn't deny it. No wonder the kids weren't satisfied- even he was getting the chills.

"I hear we have a birthday in the house!" Freddy proclaimed with somewhat stiff excitement, waving his microphone about before him. All eyes turned towards a young 7-year-old boy who sported a large, colorful party hat and a sticker that said "Birthday Boy!" on his shirt. He shifted his gaze warily, obviously uncomfortable with the presence of the chilling animatronics. He slowly raised his hand and whispered, "I-it's my birthday...!"

"Well that's a reason to celebrate! WAIT- scratch that- there's ALWAYS a reason to celebrate!" Chica shrieked, moving her rusty joints as quickly as her outdated hardware would allow. The children still weren't amused and began to whine and complain, and the parents continued to gossip about how "ugly" and "creepy" these "things" were. Not a happy crowd.

Bonnie nodded with enthusiasm. "You got that right, Chica! It's time to crank it up a notch! Let's totally BLOW the roof off this place!"

"Now, now, hold on there, Bonnie, let's not be hasty! Let's start off with one of my personal favorites, 'Every Day is a Party!'"

As the spiritless trio began to sing and dance, the young, unhappy crowd began to boo the performers, flinging empty soda cups and pizza plates at them with great amusment. Mike was horrified by the sight, and was dreading working in this awful establishment more than ever, but was hardly surprised by the childrens' reaction, and now understood why this awful place would be out of business soon enough.

"Make them stop!" one little girl whined, stomping her foot on the ground defiantly and covering her ears to block out the unpleasant sound. The children were becoming more and more discontented by the moment, and their shouts nearly drowned out the sound of the animatronics' performance. After a few more minutes of this aggravating nonsense, the trio's singing eventually slowed down to a halt and their movements became stagnant, signaling that they'd finally been powered down. The curtains swiftly closed, concealing the robots once again, and the childrens' shouting and whining ceased nearly completely after a short while.

"Hold on, hold on!" Mike heard the distinct bellow of Charlie's voice from behind the curtain, and soon enough the manager revealed himself as he rushed to the front of the stage, a look of apology covering his aged face. "Hey, all! L-look, I apologize for any inconvinience or discomfort the trio there may have caused, and I apologize that they didn't satisfy all your party needs... Because of this little hitch, we are offering pizza on the house for the next hour...!" He practically spit the words out as though they were poison. Mike was surprised to notice that Charlie's speech seemed almost rehearsed, as though he'd had to tell it to many unhappy customers throughout the past few years. "Thank you, a-and, once again, I apologize for any discomfort or dissatisfaction we may have caused." He then wandered off the stage, shame overwhelming his wrinkled face.

Mike could do nothing more than stare at the closed curtain, staggered by the stunning events that had just unfolded before his eyes. He was surprised to feel a pinge of pity for the animatronics, so unloved and obviously neglected... Not that it mattered, anyways. They were just robots, right? Creepy hunks of metal that no one cared about... Right? Oh, well. He sat up straight as he noticed Charlie drawing near, his balding head hung in understandable shame. He averted his gaze over towards the closed curtain, his eyes clouded with disgrace.

"Jeez, every time I get my hopes up, thinkin' we'll get a different reaction this time... It just seems to be getting worse and worse, y'know?"

Mike nodded his head, feelinf sorry for the man. "Y-yeah, that was quite, err... unfortunate..."

"That's why the place is closing down. Kids these days- just don't appreciate 'the crew' anymore, y'know? If I had a nickle for every cup thrown at Freddy and the gang, well, hey, maybe we wouldn't be goin' bankrupt!" He exerted a hearty laugh, but his heavy heart was undeniable. He cleared his throat, then continued. "Ahem- well, er, the place is gonna be shut down for the night in about an hour, give or take. 'Till then, I'm gonna give you a quick tour of the place to get a feel of what you're workin' with, sound good?"

"S-sure," Mike responded, not exactly looking forward to sitting in a chair for six hours straight. Especially not in this "charming" establishment, where even the children hated the frightening animatronics.

"Alright, let's get started!"

Mike reluctantly slunk along behind the man, trying his best to keep a grin on his face, no matter how fake. He took one last glance back at the faded curtain, and that same pinge of sympathy for the animatronics poked at his heart like a rose's thorn. 'Working here is gonna be a bad idea, isn't it?'


End file.
